


The Voices Wail

by lucradiss



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dave | Technoblade-centric, Good Older Sibling Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Long-Haired Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Sad Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), get this man a file in a cake because he's just gone, phil's in fucking chains lollllll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28312980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucradiss/pseuds/lucradiss
Summary: Techno finds his brother living in the self-made cellar under his house. Neither of them likes this.--Or, in which two estranged, emotionally stunted brothers learn to forgive and learn to heal.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 791





	The Voices Wail

Techno dragged his feet through the snow, fatigue weighing heavily on his body. His ragged pants came out in puffs of steam, floating away into the cold night sky, and he watched as they dissipated into the air. The voices were quiet, for once. Maybe they knew how tired he was and decided to give him a break. Only the occasional _E_ could be heard beyond his own internal dialogue, and for that he was grateful. He wished, though, it could be like this all the time.  
He could barely keep his eyes open- he felt as if he was going to pass out right then and there, but he knew he couldn't. He was almost home, anyhow, and he could go straight to bed to sleep off whatever that stupid totem had done to his body. The anvil had hit him hard- he was sure he had a broken rib or two, and the headache he had was incredible, throbbing incessantly in his skull. There were bruises and cuts from his fight with the butchers and though he definitely dealt more damage to them, taking one of Fundy's lives, he still felt the residuals.   
He almost cried in relief when his house came into view, the lights still on and smoke still coming from the chimney, signaling his hasty departure. He was glad it didn't burn down- he always doused the fireplace before he left for fear of the fire catching on the delicate wood floors without him being there. He pushed up his broken glasses as he got closer, but stopped when he saw movement in the window. Had one of his villagers come up? No, that would be impossible. They were too stupid to climb up ladders. That meant there was an intruder in his house. 

_'Someone there...'_

_"Kill them...'_

_'Make them suffer... Indulge us blood...'_

He ignored the voices.   
Despite his exhaustion, he readied his pickaxe- his only weapon- and grit his teeth, preparing himself for a fight as he slowly finished making his way toward the building. 

He carefully climbed the steps, making sure not to make any sound, and opened the door silently. This person would not know he was here, and they'd be dead before they'd notice. But, upon creeping inside and looking around, he saw nothing. Had his eyes been playing tricks on him? Surely not. 

_'Below...'_

_'Below!'_

_'Climb below...'_

The voices knew. They tended to know a lot of things, and they hinted at a lot, but it was very rare that they would flat out tell him where to go. The basement, though? They had to be wrong- there was nothing in the basement other than his villagers and his other pets.   
Still, though, at the voices' assistance, he kept his pick at the ready and climbed the ladder down, greeting his pets with a grumbling hum. 

"Where now?" He asked the voice aloud. He didn't expect them to answer straight. And yet, they did. 

_'Be quiet... Listen... Below...'_

_'Blood...'_

He did as the voices said. He closed his eyes and listened, trying to push his mind pass the humming of the villagers and the sounds of his mobs. And suddenly, faintly, he heard singing.

"He's in your bed and I'm in your twitch chat," A voice murmured, too hard to pick up for the normal human ear but just slightly easier for Techno's trained piglin one. He had to wonder to himself for a moment if the voice was just in his head, but at the vehement denial of the others, he figured that they were separate.   
He fell to his knees on the ground, putting his ear to the floor. He closed his eyes to listen better and almost felt like he could pass out there, on the floor of his mob room, before he heard more singing coming from below. It was one of Wilbur's old songs, from when he was alive. And that voice... 

He quickly got up and walked over to the ladder, mining the block below to reveal more ladders leading down into another room beneath his basement. The voice abruptly stopped singing as he began the descent into the room, turning to look at Tommy with incredulity.

"What are you doin' here, Tommy?" He asked, painfully aware of how exhausted he sounded. 

"Blade! Techno! Brother of mine," His brother started, his voice confident and much, much too loud. The other voices hissed. "You see, the thing is- Wait, I don't have to explain myself to you! Get out of my house!"

"This is my house!" 

"Get out of my room, then!"

"Who said you could live here?"

"Me!"

"But this is my house!"

"Get out!"

Techno felt hands on his chest, pushing him away, and both his ribs and the voices screamed in pain. He managed to bite back his own and huffed instead, taking a couple of steps back.

"Tommy, what are you doin' here?"

"I don't have to tell you anything!" Tommy exclaimed. Techno wondered what put the fire back in his brother- from what he'd heard from Ghostbur, Tommy had been depressed, suicidal, even, and really wasn't doing so hot. Techno had been planning on visiting, but he supposed Tommy beat him to it. "You're a murderer! And you didn't come to my beach party."

"First of all, Tommy, I have no idea what the hell you're talkin' about a beach party. Secondly, I did what I had to do in order to stop Tubbo's tyrannical government."

"You blew up L'Manburg!"

"No, _Wilbur_ blew up L'Manburg. I just... sped the process along."

As they spoke, Tommy's gaze grew darker and more dangerous. Techno couldn't help but be reminded of himself at that age, volatile and quick to fight. 

"You fucking prick."

Techno sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He didn't have the energy for this. All he wanted and needed to do was sleep after days of grinding for materials with no rest, after that stupid execution stunt he'd pulled, after walking in the sewers and through the snow for hours. He didn't have the wherewithal to deal with his angry, angsty kid brother. 

"Tommy, please-"

"No, you stupid prick! I want nothing to do with you! You asshole, I want you gone! I want you out of my fucking room! Fuck off! Die!"

Normally, words like these would do nothing to him. The voices would reassure him that those who'd wronged him could be easily eliminated and he would agree, resolving not to pay any mind to hate. But this wasn't normal. He was overwhelmed with today's events, overstimulated, overworked, and his only remaining brother was telling him that he wanted him dead and gone. He felt the tightness of emotion in his chest, and he knew things wouldn't go well. It was all too much for him to handle. The voices wailed.

"Tommy-"

"Go away! Fucking die! Out!"

"Tommy!" His voice cracked with emotion and Tommy stopped, wide-eyed. 

He grew quiet as the man in front of him raised his tone, and for the first time since childhood, he heard the choking of tears in his brother's voice. Those tears made it to his eyes, too, where he stared at Tommy through scratched, broken glasses with such sorrow. Techno tried to calm the voices by taking a deep breath.

"Tommy, I-" He choked up, looking away and putting a hand over his mouth to stop himself from sobbing. He turned back, composing himself. "Today has been... rough. Please excuse me. We can talk about this tomorrow."

He turned around and began to climb up the ladder, but he felt a quick tug of his mantle and was suddenly falling. He put out a leg to stop himself from hitting the ground, but Tommy harshly put a hand on his shoulder and spun him around, the anger in his eyes coming back full force.

"You don't get to leave that easily, asshole."

"I thought you wanted me gone," Techno said quietly, trying not to let his emotions show more than they already had that night. He could still feel the pressure of tears behind his eye sockets and the overwhelming tightness in his chest only grew with the close proximity at which Tommy talked to him. "Please let me go before I do somethin' you'll regret."

Though spoken softly, it held the same tension as it always did, and Tommy immediately backed off. Techno stood straighter and patted his ripped shirt, looking at his brother with a weary sadness.

"Go to bed. We can talk in the mornin'. I'll make breakfast or somethin' and you can tell me what you're doin' underneath my house."

He once again turned on his heel and, before he reached for the ladder, he hesitated. He turned back around and took off his cape, draping it over the younger boy's shoulders. "It should get too cold down here," He muttered. "No insulation."   
He then climbed up the ladder and into his basement, leaving Tommy confused, upset, and much warmer than he'd been previous. He replaced the stone block with a trapdoor and closed it, finally sliding down the wall and curling up into himself, trying to relieve the overwhelming feeling he'd felt rising in his stomach.

Tears sprung to his eyes, and he began to break down. His father was thousands of miles away with no means to get to him, one of his brothers was dead and fading, and his last living one hated him so intensely that he wanted him as dead as the other. He choked out a sob- he was so tired. Everything hurt. He wanted to go home, where everything was normal, and he could farm potatoes and spar with Wilbur and yell at Tommy for taking his Antarctic Empire crown. Where he could sit with Phil at night, talking and talking until they saw the rosy fingers of dawn painting the dark blue night sky orange and pink. Where the voices didn't care about blood, or even bothered him too much. He sobbed again. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home.

He was oblivious to the boy on the ladder below him, listening to his sobs.

\---

The next morning, Tommy woke up to the smell of cooking eggs, wafting down from the upstairs of Techno's house. 

He looked at the ceiling for a minute, remembering where he was- Techno's house. Or, rather, under it. He sighed and sat up after a moment, immediately realizing there was a heavy blanket over him- wait, no, that was Techno's mantle. That's right, the piglin hybrid had given him the treasured piece of cloth the night previous after their fight. Tommy had to wonder if that was his form of a peace offering. If so, he wouldn't take it.

Then again, though, Techno seemed... really upset last night. Rephrase that- he looked absolutely distraught last night. He'd mentioned something about having a rough day, but Technoblade's days were almost always rough. There was no reason for him to be acting like... well, _that_. Especially like that. Tommy swung his legs over the side of the bed and shivered when his bare feet touched the cold stone floor. As much as he wanted the warmth, he was dreading going up and facing his brother.

Techno had killed Tubbo, Tommy's best friend (at the time) and then, when Tubbo rose to presidency after Schlatt's death, he made a point to finish off an already blown up L'Manburg with not one but _two_ Withers. That had to have been excessive, right?  
The words Techno had said- _"You want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one!"_ \- were constantly in the back of his mind, always lingering. He did want to be a hero. He'd wanted to be one since he was a kid and heard stories of his adoptive father adventuring and saving the world from its plights. He wanted to be like Wilbur, who studied and thought with such ease. To be like his piglin hybrid older brother, who effortlessly destroyed anyone who dared to enter combat with him from a young age. 

_"You want to be a hero, Tommy?" The boy, maybe ten or eleven at the time, had asked Tommy while the younger boy ate what Techno had prepared for him. Techno wasn't eating- "I don't like eating breakfast, plus training on a full stomach always makes me nauseous," he'd said. Phil and Wilbur were both still asleep, Tommy having woken Techno to train him in the early morning before the sun rose too high and it got too hot. "I've told you before that good things never happen to heroes."_

_"I don't care! I wanna help people! They'll call me Big T!"_

_Techno had chuckled, near humorlessly, and taken a sip of his orange juice. "Alright, then."_

_"Can I be a hero, Techno?" He remembered saying those words, and immediately Techno's bright red eyes trained onto him, looking him up and down with an analytical wisdom that shouldn't have been in the gaze of a child. There was a sadness there too; a yearning for something he'd never be able to have. Not that Tommy recognized it at the time, being maybe six or seven, but it was there all the same._

_"...Maybe, if you perfect your ranged combat. The first step is learnin' to use a crossbow without having to lose momentum with reloadin'- c'mon now, finish your breakfast. You wanna spar before doin' our mornin' chores, right? Let's get a move on, Hero."_

_Tommy had beamed at the name. Hero._

He was not a hero. And neither was Techno, boasting a bloodied past of conquest and massacre until he settled only recently back with Phil. Wilbur, as much as Tommy wanted to suppress those memories, might have been a hero, once. But, of course, power corrupts, and that hero of a brother he'd been during the war to reclaim L'Manburg had crumbled into insanity, and then calmed into the ghostly form he now inhabited.   
He doubted his father even was- he saw the pain in his father's eyes as he told those stories of war, the fakeness in his smile as he reassured his sons that everything worked out in the end. Phil had killed many. Most, for good reason. But, of course, innocent lives are always the easiest lost.

He stood, wrapping the mantle farther around himself. Techno had been right- it was fucking cold down in that makeshift basement he'd built. Came from living in the snow, he supposed. He wondered if it was much warmer upstairs. He was sure it was- there was a fireplace in the living area and he'd seen Techno's bed, all covered in thick furs and padded duvets. It was nothing compared to what they'd had back home, but it made do.

"'Bout time you started wakin' up. Are you comin' up here or no, raccoon-innit?" 

He blinked and looked up. Techno had poked his head down into the hole, hair in a loose bun at the top of his head. Tommy saw pink strands falling out of it and knew Techno would need to redo it upon pulling out. There was an amused glint in his brother's bloodied eyes, no doubt from seeing Tommy so cuddled in his mantle. He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Lemme wake the fuck up a little first, will ya?"

Techno hummed in affirmation and pulled his head out of the hole. Tommy heard footsteps receding and sighed, finally standing. He didn't take off the cape, pulling it closer to his body as he walked over to the ladder and made his way up. He nodded to the villagers living in the _actual_ basement, getting nothing but a couple of hums in return, then climbed into the actual liveable area of Techno's house.  
He walked into the kitchen, seeing Techno standing in front of a stove. He was wearing a knitted sweater, probably made for him by their father some time ago, and some woolen pants to stave off the chill. He turned to greet Tommy with a stare that was somehow both emotionless and full of apprehension, and the younger realized that Techno was wearing his glasses. He hadn't seen his brother wear those since before he left for the DreamSMP, and even then he really didn't wear them much. Something about them getting in the way, or falling off too much in battle, or forgetting them. The gods only knew how much he needed them though- he'd walked into more trees than the man would care to admit in the months before Phil got him the lenses.

Techno took the pan off the stove and put the spatula on the counter, wringing his hands. He looked nervous. Not that Tommy would expect any less- take an already anxious man who'd been through a lifetime of shit and put him in a situation with someone who he was one, on bad terms with and two, now had just as much trauma as him, and you got a recipe for disaster.

"Eggs? I know you liked 'em back at home; I don't have Phil's recipe, but I tried my best to remember what I tasted when he made 'em before you left. It has been a couple of years, though, so bear with me. I also have mushroom stew but I think I remember something about how you hated mushrooms...? In any case, I have that as well. Oh! Is there anythin' you want to drink? Are you even thirsty? I have milk and water and uh... yeah. That's it. I could make some ginger honey tea if you want. The bees are producin' a lot of honey and I have some ginger from before I came to the SMP. There's not a lot, though, so this wouldn't happen every mornin'. I can do it today, though, and we might have enough for a couple more servin's." He stopped for a minute, realizing he was rambling. "Shit. Sorry."

Tommy waved him off and sat at the table, not meeting his eyes. "Eggs are fine. And milk."

He saw Techno nod nervously out of the corner of his eye, scraping some eggs onto a plate and pouring milk into a small, dented metal tankard. Tommy hoped it was clean.   
He found it was as he took a sip, relishing the cold, fresh taste of the liquid within. He wondered how Techno got such fresh milk out in the middle of nowhere and figured that Phil probably had a cow. He sighed. He missed his. He finally turned his gaze to his brother, who sat across from him looking at his clasped hands. Tommy saw them, knuckles white with discomfort and anxiety. 

"You aren't gonna eat?"

Techno looked up and blinked. Tommy saw something in Techno's eyes right then- a vulnerability he hadn't seen in the boy since childhood, and then it was gone. He shook his head. Tommy looked away and took a sip of his drink- so much for conversation. He should have known- his brother wasn't really much for talking. He never had been.

He sighed and finished his food, across from the man who'd contributed so heavily to his trauma.

\---

Techno cleaned up Tommy's breakfast quickly after he finished, putting the plates in the sink to be washed later. He'd sent his brother out to the bee farm to harvest some more honey.

"Tommy, take my boots and go out there to get some honey, yeah? I'm runnin' a little low-" He'd stopped, realizing his mistake when the voices scolded him. "Wait, wait, sorry, nevermi-"

"Shut up. I'll do it." 

And with that Tommy had left, Techno's heavy guilt in his wake. 

_You shouldn't have sent him out there._

_Take care of your brother. Technocare._

He'd hoped this morning would be a chance for them to talk things out. Techno would apologize for everything he'd done in the past and offer his services in the plight against New L'Manburg, Tommy would accept with vigor and they'd become the unstoppable duo their father always said they would be if they actually worked cohesively together. But, of course, things don't go to plan- they never do, especially for Technoblade.  
The boy was unresponsive at best and despondent at worst, but who's to say Techno was any better? He sighed, turning and leaning against the counter. He was always a shit big brother. He knew that. Wilbur was always more emotionally inclined, more ready to say the right things at the right times- Techno was always stunted at everything other than fighting and sarcasm. 

He rolled his shoulder painfully. His body still ached, his head still pounded. He'd checked the night previous- the bruises he'd sustained from the anvil were extensive and even after downing a regen _and_ a health potion, his ribs were still incredibly sore to the touch. And that wasn't to mention the gold he'd noticed glowing from the veins in the hand he'd held the totem- he hoped there weren't too many adverse effects, but he knew cheating death had no small price tag. He would have to pay in one form or another- his would was commended to the Aether the minute the butchers had pulled that lever, and stolen from the Aether the minute he'd pulled out that totem. He'll know how to repay the gods he'd swindled when the time is right, but for now his soul lives in tantem, praying for release. 

He wondered what Tommy had been through. He knew he'd been in exile for the past months, but he hadn't visited him after that first day. There was such a palpable hatred in his brother's eyes then- now it was more visceral, more ingrained into his psyche than anything else. Techno didn't even know if it was hatred- Phil had assured him that his younger brother could never truly hate him, such was the way of family, but Techno had done abbhorant things that he knew Tommy would hold a grudge over. It wasn't something to be taken as lightly as "he'll get over it". Techno wished it was that easy. 

He looked up as the boy in question walked back through the door, still wrapped in Techno's mantle and looking just a little bit more distressed than when he left. Techno cocked his head, his right ear twitching in thought. Maybe it really wasn't a good idea to send Tommy into a place that was so heavily associated with his trauma. He groaned internally. This would be a learning curve.

"I got the honey," Tommy all but grunted, nearly throwing the bottles onto the table. Techno collected them.

"Good. If you're gonna be livin' here, you're gonna have to earn your keep. _And_ repay me for the shit you stole."

Tommy huffed indignantly. "Fine. Fucking pig."

Within the silence, Techno noticed how heavy the mantle looked on his brother's shoulders. Oh, how that curse had hung so burdensome on his own for so long...

He'd make his brother a new one, sans the weight of Techno's sins.

\---

Tommy hated this.

It had been days of this- waking up, tending to Techno's bee farm, eating the breakfast his estranged brother had prepared for him and every day crossing his fingers it wasn't poisoned. He would go into that farm, blocking out the screams he still heard and the words that cut like daggers into his mind; Tubbo's words of exile, Dream's words that were sickeningly sweet and honeyed as the houses that were stacked around the building in which he worked every morning.   
Then he would return, give what he owed, and they would move on with their days. Tommy spent his down below in the cold, always wrapped in Techno's mantle- the man hadn't asked for it back and, given everything Techno had done to Tommy in the past, the boy wasn't inclined to offer its return- plotting on how to get back at Dream and Tubbo and all the others who had wronged him. He plotted on how to get back at Techno, too, his anger only intensifying whenever he heard the sharp clacks of boots above him in the basement of Techno's house. Yes, the piglin hybrid's name was at the top of this list, and he would exact his revenge sooner or later. That's where he sat now, laying in his bed and staring at the ceiling in the darkest hours of the night, scheming.

On the topic of revenge, over a dinner suggested by Techno himself that Tommy didnt' have the balls to refuse, the piglin had offered his help in the reclamation of New L'Manburg.

_"It would only be some minor terrorism," The man had assured him, cutting a piece and taking a bite of his steak. Tommy had barely touched his. "Nothin' too major. Just gettin' my weapons back, gettin' your discs, and makin' sure everyone over there knows who's boss."_

_"And who_ is _the boss?" Tommy had asked in response._

_Techno's eyes gleamed dangerously at the question and he took a sip of his blooded wine. "Hopefully, when we're done, no-one."_

Tommy didn't know what to make of it. Techno had offered him time to think on the arrangement, and for that, if only that, Tommy was appreciative. On one hand, he couldn't stand his brother. He believed the world would be much better off without Technoblade, and in some respects he knew he was right. On the other hand, though, he knew he wouldn't be able to do everything he needed to without help, and it seemed as though the only person on his side- excluding Dream, who Tommy now felt extremely conflicted feelings towards- was his stupid pig brother.   
He groaned, turning onto his side. He didn't know what to do. He felt wrong taking this deal but he felt wrong going it alone. He couldn't take this.

As if to to purposely snap him out of his thoughts, he heard those clacks of boots upstairs, though this time quicker, almost frantic. Now, what could be making the mighty Technoblade _frantic_? He narrowed his eyes as he heard a door slam open and closed. Techno was going outside? He himself had told Tommy it wasn't safe to be outside at night, what with all the hostile mobs and the biting cold that was probably ten times worse than what he felt in his little damp cellar. Pulling it closer to himself, he realized Techno was also without his mantle. What was going on? What could cause such a beacon of stoicity to crumble? 

Though Tommy told himself it was mere curiosity, he knew in his subconscious that worry brought him out of bed that night and up the ladder. He pulled on the extra set of boots Techno had dug out for him so he wouldn't have to keep using Techno's and stepped outside, immediately regretting it as the bitter cold seeped through his skin. Still, he ventured on, looking around for his brother.   
The wind howled, louder than Tommy had ever heard it, but somehow he could hear, faintly in the distance, the sound of something sharp piercing soft flesh. He took a couple more steps in the direction of the sound and stopped when he saw a figure, hunched over the body of a dead spider who had one too many holes lodged in it. 

Techno.

He was wearing nothing but that knit sweater, those woolen pants, and his boots in the snow, the wind unforgiving against his exposed neck. Tommy could practically see the shiver in the man's shoulders from dozens of feet away. He frowned. Something was wrong. He could see it in Techno's body language was all off- what had been royal, what had been lethal, merciless, suave power now gave way to stress, to pain, to panic. There was definitely something wrong. Tommy gripped the mantle a little tighter, prepared to take it off to give to his brother.

"Techno!" He called. His brother didn't turn. He walked closer, and he saw the man freeze completely. "Techno, what the fuck are you doing out here? It's fucking cold as shit-"

Tommy put his hands up in surrender when Techno whipped around, resting the blade edge of the pickaxe chill against the delicate skin of Tommy's throat. Tommy swallowed, feeling a dribble of blood slide down his neck.   
Techno's eyes were wide, feral, bags under them; the already bright red seemed to shine dangerously in the darkness of night, unseeing. His hair was wild, strands falling over his face in a way the man would never have let them normally. His breathing was harsh, his tusks were exposed- he was a wreck.

"Techno, what are you doing?" Tommy asked. "Snap out of it. Please."

Techno grunted in response, then muttered something, those eyes finally zoning back into the world and meeting Tommy's. There was suddenly so much fear in those pupils- so much that Tommy didn't know what to do with himself. 

"What?" He asked, wanting to know what his brother had said.

"Get away."

Tommy blinked. "Away? What the fuck do you mean, 'away'?! You've got your stupid fucking pick against my goddamn neck!"

Techno realized then where he had his weapon and pulled back harshly, cutting a shallow gash in Tommy's neck. The boy hissed, putting a hand to his neck in pain and taking a couple steps back.

"What the fuck is that all about, Techno? You fucking cut me!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He repeated, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the wind. "I'm sorry, the voices... the voices- they're screamin' at me, Toms."

Tommy's anger dissipated. Techno hadn't called him Toms since... well, since they were kids. "What are they saying?" He asked. Techno had mentioned the voices before, in passing. Not often, and he would noticeably downplay what they would say, but Tommy knew they were present and they told him to do things, or told him things about the world. They knew all, he said.   
They could also be vicious.

"They..." Techno blinked, tears bubbling up in the rims of his eyes. He dropped his pick into the soft snow and fell to his knees, hunching in on himself. He put his hands over his ears as if to block out noise that wasn't there, but Tommy didn't move. "They want blood. They want me to kill."

"They want you to kill me?" Tommy asked softly, eyes wide and frightened. Techno looked up, tears falling onto his cheeks, meeting Tommy's gaze with an equal amount, if not more, terror.

"No," He said, choking on a sob. "They want me to kill _for_ you. They want me to start killin' everyone in New L'Manburg; they want to burn everythin' down to see your smile- it's gettin' hard to stop 'em, Toms. I can't- I can't do this anymore. They're _screamin'._ "

Tommy slowly approached his brother, who was now sobbing nearly uncontrollably. He took the mantle- his brother's mantle, the fabric heavy with the blood he'd spilled while wearing it- and gently draped it over the piglin hybrid's shoulders. It was probably the first time in a while Techno had been treated with such softness.

"C'mon, big man," Tommy said, his voice quiet. Techno looked up at him again, confusion swimming in those now-dulled red irises. Tommy looked down at him with a small, sad smile. In his eyes there was... forgiveness. Was Tommy to forgive him for all he'd done? Techno felt as if he didn't deserve this boy's smile. "Let's go home and warm up."

They did just that. And if Tommy slowly migrated upstairs more in the following days; if he moved into the spare bedroom that Phil had used before getting arrested; if he took a pen and scratched out Techno's name on his list of people he was to seek revenge from?

Well, nobody needed to know.


End file.
